Until We Meet Again
by TsukiiS
Summary: Ryou finds himself writing a letter a year after everything that occurred in Memory World. (Mentions of Yami Bakura, but he's not in the story)


The birds chirped and the cars rumbled in dissonance that morning in Domino City. The sky was clear of but a few wispy clouds floating carelessly, unable to hide the sun's bright rays. The light trickled through the blinds and through Ryou's window, creating a lined pattern against his bed and wall. When the light reached his closed eyes, he turned over on his other side to mask his face from the intruding sun. His efforts were futile, however, as he could not will himself to fall back asleep. He had been awake for an hour now, since before the sun ever joined the clouds in their leisurely dance, turning over and over again. It seemed that sleep was his enemy for it always slipped away before he could ever fully immerse himself in it. Still, he was not sleepy per se; his body was tired, but it couldn't restrain him from getting up every morning and going about his day.

He threw the blankets to his left and sat up, throwing his legs over the side of his bed. His toes touched the cold floor, but he was unfazed by the chill that ran through the tender skin of his feet. He stretched his arms as he yawned, giving his tense muscles a moment to relax before he began his daily routine. He ran his hands over both eyes before sliding them into his messy locks. He stood then, swiftly making his bed before moving to his window and opening the blinds. The sun was scorching hot that day; Ryou could feel the sun's heat radiating through the window pane and burning his pale skin. Bright and hot complete with a loud commotion down below—Ryou was thankful he had no class that day.

He quickly gathered some clothes—a simple pair of jeans and a navy t-shirt—and headed for his bathroom. After brushing his teeth and removing his pajamas, he turned on the showerhead and hopped inside.

The cold water instantly woke him up, driving several thousand icicles into his body, but the sensation was invigorating rather than painful. He stood there without a care or a thought about the world, soaking beneath the cascading water. He cupped his hands beneath the water, letting it pool in his delicate hands before bringing the water to his face. After having stood there for several minutes, Ryou washed his hair and body. He let out a content sigh, feeling refreshed and awake, so he turned off the showerhead and stepped outside. Water droplets decorated the bathroom floor as he dried himself and got dressed. Every day, he did the same things over and over again. His life was mundane and quiet. Not to say that he didn't enjoy his free time reading or crafting new things, but life felt empty—it was an abandoned building left to nature's uncontrollable will.

A year had gone by since the Pharaoh's soul passed to the afterlife, the memory becoming nothing more than faded print on an old newspaper. It all felt almost like a lucid dream; he knew what took place did indeed occur, but all of it felt too surreal. Perhaps he felt this way because he was unaccustomed to living a normal life sans an evil spirit who spent much of his free time tormenting Ryou and his friends. The apartment was quieter now—too quiet. Everything seemed so calm that it felt unreal.

He sat at his desk, pulling out a book to read during his free time. It was Sunday, and he was free from class. He wondered why he didn't just sleep in that day, but in the recesses of his mind, he knew that he couldn't stay asleep longer than a few hours. His mind constantly tormented him with thoughts about the Spirit that once resided within the Millennium Ring. Dreams of their time together, good and bad, played in his head like a recurring video while he slept, reminding him of how those days were forever out of reach.

Without sparing a thought for any of his actions, he placed the book back on its shelf and pulled out a patterned paper from a drawer. He picked out a black pen from a cup on his desk, uncertain of what his body was doing. The feeling felt familiar, like the times Bakura would take over his body, and Ryou's body was moving but not of his own will, except that this time, he had no idea what force was moving him to write.

 _Dear Bakura,_

Ryou stopped at that point, dropping his pencil on the sheet of paper and leaning back into his chair. He closed his eyes in an attempt to collect the millions of thoughts that crossed his mind. He had so many questions he wanted to ask the Spirit, so many things he wanted to tell him. _How was he? Did he have company? Had he met his sister yet? Was he finally resting in peace?_ _He hoped so. After thousands of years with no closure, Bakura also deserved to rest._ Ryou's body began to shake from sadness—fear—that Bakura's soul could not reach the afterlife. He had studied Ancient Egyptian culture profusely and knew how important it was for a soul to reach the afterlife. He breathed in deeply, calming himself and trying his best to gather the thoughts that raced through his head like speeding cars before they came crashing into him.

He sat back up and picked up his pencil, beginning to write his letter to Bakura. __

 _I hope you're doing well. It's been a while. I'm sorry I haven't written to you. I guess I didn't realize you were truly gone, or maybe I just didn't want to admit it to myself._

He paused again, but he didn't think about his next words. Instead, he let his hand be his messenger and transcribe his feelings into words.

 _It's funny. I always believed I would be relieved if you ever left, but now I see it's the complete opposite. You must think I'm pathetic for missing an evil spirit. The truth is, you weren't entirely bad. I can almost hear your scoff. You're laughing at me. That's okay. I know I'm right. True, you hurt me at times, but you kept me company. You tried to keep me safe. Your methods were never the right ones, but your intentions were pure._

 _I never got the chance to thank you. When I was small, after the accident with my mother and sister, I swore it was my imagination, but now I know that you were there. I saw you. I never told you, but I saw you several times when I was a boy. You were looking out for me, keeping me silent company. But I thought my mind was playing tricks, making me see someone was close by, so I didn't feel so alone. Even as I got older, I always did my best to ignore your presence. I was too stupid to see that you weren't just waiting for an opportunity to carry out your evil schemes. Whenever I was cooking or studying or sleeping, you were watching me. Thank you. I wish we could have gotten along. I wish I had gotten to know you better, your story. Will you tell me one day? About yourself. Your life, your family, your friends._

 _I'm attending university now. I'm actually studying archaeology, but I don't think I'll open any museums like my father did. Actually, what I want is to do field work. If I can spend my time out on the field for my entire career, I think I'd be very happy. Do you mind? I didn't get a chance to see your home. I want very much to visit Kul Elna. You don't like the sound of that idea, do you? I will take care of it, I promise. I will preserve it as it is and make sure it's hidden from the world. I know you'll appreciate the privacy. I just want to know more about where you're from. I know only the name. I never even learned your name. I hope you'll tell me your name one day too._

Ryou pushed his chair back away from his desk and sunk down a bit. He looked up at the ceiling, his eyes focusing on one specific spot. He thought about the events that unfolded exactly one year ago, how he was unable to enter the Memory World. "How cruel," he said, his voice laced with a hint of anger toward that idiot Bobasa. He sighed, sitting upright again. "Maybe it was for the best." And perhaps it was for the best. After all, he wanted more than anything to accompany his friends and help them on their journey, but if he were entirely honest with himself, he was far too curious and concerned for the Spirit that he might have drifted away from his friends.

It wasn't fair, really. Bakura was alone in Memory World. He was alone in the Millennium Ring for three thousand years. Entirely alone. The Pharaoh had friends who cared about him, and all Ryou could provide for the Spirit was distrust and contempt.

 _Nonsense, Landlord, you provided me with a vessel_ , he imagined Bakura saying, complete with a smirk and a chuckle.

The thought brought a smile to Ryou's lips. The Spirit always had a cruel sense of humor. He was probably laughing at his Landlord at that very moment from wherever he was. Ryou knew that if Bakura could see him, he would spend his time watching over Ryou as he had done when he inhabited the Millennium Ring. Ryou only wished he could have done the same for Bakura inside Memory World. To this day, he didn't know what happened. Yugi refused to tell him the details about what occurred inside Memory World. It was selfish and unfair, and Yugi had no right to keep this information from Ryou, but Ryou also knew that Yugi did things with good intentions. That fact alone made Ryou wonder whether or not he truly wanted to learn the truth surrounding Bakura and Kul Elna—whether or not he could handle obtaining this type of knowledge.

Ryou eschewed the thoughts from his mind, focusing on the words in front of him. He brought the pencil back to the paper, continuing to write and ignoring his previous thoughts.

 _I hope you've met my sister. I'm sure she would like you. She was always friendly with everyone. My mother too. She will take care of you. She would always look out for my friends. She'll treat you like you're a little boy, but please forgive her. She is very motherly toward everyone. I hope you got a chance to see your family as well. It must be nice to see them again after so many years. I'm happy for you. You can all be together now. And perhaps I can meet your family one day._

 _I wish I could be there with you, but I can't. I hope you can forgive me. I hope you can forgive me for never seeing you as anything but a bad person. I know better now. You are my guardian, and I'm so grateful to you. I'm happy we met. So, so happy. I never want to imagine what it would be like to live without ever having known you. I know everything I am saying is cliché, but I hope you believe me. You know I'm not a liar, so don't pretend like I'm just writing words. I want to know you. I want to know why you acted as you did, and why, even through your terrible deeds, you still took care of me. Several years ago, I would have wondered what I did to deserve being haunted by an evil spirit, but now I see that's not right at all. Answer me, please. What did I do to deserve your small acts of kindness when you yourself cursed the world and everyone in it?_

 _I made a mistake in never giving you a chance while you were here with me. I hope you'll forgive me, and give me the chance to make up for it._

 _Thank you, Bakura. Thank you so much._

 _Until we meet again,_

 _Ryou_

Ryou pulled out an envelope from a drawer in his desk. Instinctively, he folded his letter in three and placed it inside the envelope, licking the edges before sealing it. He wrote "Bakura" on the front of it, as he was so accustomed to calling the other by his own family name, and moved from his chair to the closet. He reached for a box on the top shelf, one of several boxes that decorated his shelf in a neatly fashioned row, and took it to his desk. He opened the box and placed the envelope beside the dozens of letters addressed to Amane. With a small smile, he placed the lid back on the box, letting his fingers linger on the smooth, dark wood. It was as if he was afraid to move his hand away, unwilling to let the moment end and drag him back to reality.

"Amane," he said, his voice becoming shaky. His vision blurred, but he breathed deeply for several moments before he spoke again, trying his hardest to keep his composure. He was familiar with this pain, the pain of feeling incomplete. A brick was missing in the wall of a crumbling building, and it threatened to fall apart. Still, he refused to let the rough winds of agony blow him down to nothing but shambles. When he spoke again, his voice was soft but no longer showed weakness. If anything, anyone who saw this immediate transition from sadness to determination would have noticed that Ryou was a strong person who had endured so many tragedies in his life without ever letting them throw him into a labyrinth of sorrow and lose himself in it entirely.

"Amane, please keep an eye on him. He can be reckless at times. And please keep him company. He enjoys so many games. I'm sure you two will get along." The apartment was quiet; not a sound was heard but the songs of the birds singing on the tree outside his window and the conversations of people several stories below and of cars rumbling as they passed by. Yet, everything seemed too quiet for Ryou, too quiet and still despite the noise and movement of birds and people and cars.

He moved to the window on the right of his desk, looking outside at the boisterous scene. Everyone's lives carried on normally. Always, life carried on without a pause. Even after his mother and sister passed away, and even now, after the Spirit was gone as well, the sun rose and set every day to remind everyone that time had not stilled. Ryou's life had been far from normal, but life had no sympathy for someone's personal tribulations. Life had a cruel sense of humor, continuing on even though others were not ready to continue. Ryou always moved on, regardless of the pain his heart pumped through his veins and throughout his entire body. He did so tenaciously—for himself and for the people who were forced to leave him. He would continue to wake up every morning, make himself breakfast, go to school, come home and study, eat, sleep—everything he was accustomed to doing before any of them had ever left him. Every mundane activity he did on a daily basis, he would happily complete because he knew that Bakura would be disgusted with Ryou if Ryou acted any other way.

Ryou would live for the both of them, as he did when Bakura was with him. It was the least he could do; it was _all_ he could do for the misunderstood Spirit that showed glimpses of kindness through a mask of evil. No matter how dark his heart had become throughout the thousands of years that he was stuck in the black abyss within the Millennium Ring, Ryou knew that the true Bakura, whose name he did not know, was kind at one point, and that kindness could never fully disappear. Ryou's heart would not let him believe otherwise.

Ryou closed his eyes, shutting out the world. Whenever Bakura spoke within Ryou's mind rather than showing himself as a translucent spirit, Ryou would close his eyes. It was his way of looking at the other when they talked.

"Thank you," he whispered to Bakura, opening his eyes to let the tears stream down his cheeks. He smiled, and despite the tears that spilled from his eyes, it was a genuine smile for he was happy that he had known the Spirit, and he was relieved to know that Bakura was free from his suffering.

Ryou's smile was a smile meant only for Bakura, who had been the only person in the world that devoted so much time to Ryou. Yugi and the others could think what they wanted about the Spirit; Ryou spent the majority of his life in the company of Bakura. Ryou knew Bakura better than any of them ever did, and no matter how much the Spirit tried to portray himself as a revenge-hungry, malevolent, and heartless being, Ryou could see the truth behind his eyes. There was a blanket of darkness that engulfed the spirit, crashing in on him like a catastrophic wave. He was drowning, and Ryou couldn't save him. He never tried to do anything for him. He missed his chance, but he would make up for it. He'd open his eyes every morning, graduate from college, visit Kul Elna and protect it, learn the truth about the small village where Bakura once lived, and perhaps he'd learn about Bakura himself. He would live until his final breath sent him away to join his sister and his mother and Bakura, wherever they were. He'd do it all for Bakura.

"Rest now," he said with a trembling voice. He brought a hand up to his face to wipe away the fallen tears. He was unable to muffle a sob that escaped his lips, leaning his back against the window for his legs felt too weak and exhausted to hold up his weight any longer.

But through his moment of grief, he still smiled because he was speaking to the Spirit once again, as if Bakura never left his side at all. He knew Bakura was watching him—listening to Ryou's words—as he had done for the duration of the time they were together. Ever since Ryou first placed the Millennium Ring around his neck, when he was a small, lonely child, Bakura looked after him and did his best to protect the one person that never showed fear toward the evil spirit. Ryou knew it was no different now. He wasn't that little boy anymore; he was no longer alone or afraid for he knew that Bakura continued to watch over him from a distance, and that thought alone comforted Ryou's aching heart.

"Wait for me, and someday, we'll be together again."


End file.
